Double Dog Dare
by Brutal Let Down
Summary: Harkness has to make some tough choices when a battered vaultie appears on the bridge of Rivet City. He didn't realize kids from the vault could be this troublesome, especially when the only other vaulties he's known were Saints. ButchXHarkness, MaleXMale, don't like, don't read.
1. Runaway

Things were beginning to wind down in Rivet City with the setting sun. Shops were closing up in the marketplace and Gary was offering the uneaten lurkcakes of the day to James, C.J. and Bryan, so they didn't go to waste. Doctor Preston was chatting it up with Seagrave, though it was in a whispering manner. Perhaps it had something to do with Seagrave's health, not wanting anyone near to hear because of confidentiality.

The Cantelli's were arguing down at the Quick Fix, another heated discussion about how Paulie wanted to help out around the stall and how Cindy didn't trust him enough. Harkness was just about to take a step in that direction, determined to defuse the situation(as always) when Lana appeared at his side, "They've been trying to work things out lately." She lowly commented, eyes fixed on the blossoming scene, though her body language had her turned to the open fire in a barrel drum. Of course Harkness didn't need her to tell him this, he knew. He knew about everything in the ship, from the little scuffle Bryan and James had last week up on the baseball diamond that resulted in an even bigger scuffle between Vera and Tammy, to the troubles Brock's been having with keeping Ted Strayer out of the Muddy Rudder when Belle has already cut him off.

"I know." Was his simple reply instead. Lana liked to think she was more in the know than he, but Harkness didn't want to rain on her parade. There was a reason he was Chief. "I just don't want them to 'work it out' in public." He didn't necessarily use a grumbled tone, but it was clear to Lana he was quickly growing annoyed. So, with a soft smile, she left her position next to the Chief and quickly got between the feuding spouses.

The slight tension inside him settled at the sight of Lana preforming the task he hadn't been looking forward to. If he'd gone over there, odds were Paulie would put hands on him, want to brawl a bit, and Harkness would have to knock him on his face. That's how he could tell he'd been using. Anyone else would know better than to stand up to Harkness. With Lana, Paulie was like putty in her hands. He somewhat envied it…

"Harkness…" Bannon was suddenly beckoning Harkness over with a waving hand. He obliged the fellow council member and was soon standing in his stall, looking over the newer outfits he had accumulated. A scavenger had come by not too long ago with some nice looking business suits, and by nice, he meant they weren't entirely covered in dust and didn't have as many holes in the sleeves and armpit like the others.

"What's got you bugging me." Harkness joked as he put weight on one foot as he leaned in his stance, arms crossed over his armored chest. Bannon chuckled, "Well it's actually important. At the next council meeting there are a few points I want to bring up…" somewhere in between Bannon's ranting about the drinking water conditions, (Which Harkness didn't need his input about, he got enough complaints as is.) and his whining about allowing one of the empty rooms in the lower deck be filled with Muddy Rudder equipment, Harkness stopped listening. They were the same points Bannon tried to bring up time after time after time, again and again. Harkness has already told him to lay off it. These were subjects that couldn't be helped. Harkness couldn't make their water better and Harkness couldn't help that the Muddy Rudder went through chairs and booze like toilet paper.

With a politely risen hand, he interrupted Bannon after he couldn't take it anymore, "Bannon, for one, you know there is absolutely nothing I can do about the water situation. So please, stop bringing it up." His voice had taken on a sort of annoyed tone, his eyes squinting as he stared at the Potomac Attire shop owner. "Second, you know for a fact that the Muddy Rudder racks in more cash than all these shops combined, so giving Belle the storage room was necessary." Bannon gave a huff, and Harkness saw the argument forming on his lips-

But behind him, the door to the market place burst open, the sound of metal banging against metal vibrating through the entire room, gaining everyone's attention. One of his security guards who had been posted right outside the door came stumbling in, "Chief! I need Preston! He collapsed half way down the bridge…" Draped over the young officer's shoulder was a boy, maybe just a few years younger than the guard was, blood dripping from his waist and arms, his dark locks matted on his forehead in a clump. He looked like he'd been walking for God knows how long. Dust and dirt were caked on just as equally over his black leather jacket.

The doctor was suddenly rushing past him, sprinting up the stairs and quickly taking the boy from him. Harkness sighed, knowing the doctor would never be able to manage more than C.J. Harkness didn't remember when he started after him, but he was suddenly right beside the doctor, having noticed Preston's slight struggle with the boy's weight, Harkness wordlessly scooped him out of his arms and gently maneuvered the stranger onto his shoulders, cradling his legs around his waist.

After regaining a bit of breath Preston gave an acknowledging nod and they were soon heading out of the marketplace and to Doctor Preston's office. Harkness could feel the steady breath the boy was taking against his back, the way he gently quivered and shook. His hands were limp and flailing as they dangled around his neck. He wondered just what this boy had gotten into out there, by himself.

Preston was quick to reach into drawers and pull out tubes, needles and meds, setting them out neatly on a clean table, "Set the boy here." He instructed, and Harkness obeyed, laying him down with a bit of awkward maneuvering, to keep from hurting him further, and he slumped on the table with an incoherent groan and mumble. Now, in the clinical brightness of Preston's office, Harkness could clearly see the extent of the boy's injures.

"Holy shit…" he mumbled. There was a gash that ran from one side of his abdomen to the other in a slant, just barely missing slashing into that leather jacket of his. The Kid had a tough look about him though, as if this wasn't the worst he's been through. Even in his unconscious state, his brows were slightly knit in what looked to be frustration. The gash didn't look too deep thankfully. He'd say the stranger was lucky, but with the way things were looking…

Suddenly, the blue jumpsuit that was slashed in the waist and peeked out underneath his jacket and shielded his legs sprang to his attention. "Preston, does that look like a vault suit to you?"

The doctor paused, glancing over to examine him. "Huh…" he adjusted his glasses further up on his nose, perplexed, "It sure does." He looked to Harkness, the question plain on his face before he could even form it in his mouth, so he answered, "I was thinking the same thing. Check his back."

The doctor made a face, "Maybe later, when his condition is more stable. I'd rather not move him around too much, or too often." With that he went back to his cabinets.

Harkness sighed, though he understood. It had been awhile sense the last time he saw a vault dweller turned wasteland survivalist. "Can he be helped, Preston?" he turned and looked at the doctor who was steadily pulling out purified bottles of water and sterilized tools, "Im not sure yet. He looks severely dehydrated and exhausted." He paused in pulling out what looked to be refrigerated blood packs, taking a glance at the boy. With a more grave tone he continued, "Not to mention all the blood loss. You're going to have to let me work." And with a directing glance to his door Harkness got the clue and nodded, "Report to me on any news." He started for the door.

"I'm not one of your guards, but you'll be the first." Preston mumbled. Harkness only smirked, knowing he meant nothing by it and continued out, shutting the door behind him. He was on his way back to the marketplace when he felt something wet run down his arm from off his armor plating.

It was blood.

His lips formed a taut line as he decidedly changed directions, and started down the hall to his quarters to change. He could already hear Lana barking at him for coming out there like that in front of the children. It brought a smirk to his face.

As he rummaged through his locker's contents some moments later, his mind started processing the possibilities, the ones involving that mysterious dark haired boy and his sudden appearance. It was the right thing to do, helping the kid like this, but of course, the negative possibilities surfaced as well.

What if he had been on the run, and who ever had been chasing him was lead here? What if this was some clever ploy he was pulling, wanting to gain entrance without question and be trusted only to later slaughter all the civilians?

He suddenly heard his own thoughts and shook his head disapprovingly. Of course none of that was true, the poor boy must have been on his way here when he was jumped by raiders or maybe a Mirelurk.

If it had been a Muttie, he wouldn't even be here right now. They'd hold him captive even if he was slowly bleeding out. The thought made Harkness clench his shirt a little tighter as he tugged it off. Before he came along, before he was voted as security chief of Rivet City, the Mutants had made off with one too many civilians to never be seen again.

And besides, the kid was from a vault, he couldn't possibly be that much trouble.

As he pulled out a rag to scrub down his bloody armor he also pulled out his small bottle of whisky. He sat on his cot and began to wash away the kid's blood, a small grimace on his face. This was a lot of blood. He plucked up his bottle and uncapped it to take a small swig. In moments like these, where all he needed to do was steadily wipe down a surface, his mind went blank and he could focus on the task, and do it with thoroughness. But for some reason, this time his mind wandered. Just images, flashes of a blue and bloodied jumpsuit, black muddy boots. The soft looking leather of a black jacket. And then he could feel the warmth on his back, the breathing that fluttered in the lungs of an aching body.

He sighed, setting aside his rag, figuring he had done enough. He needed to get up and moving before his restless mind wandered anymore.

Harkness walked with purpose down the halls, heading to the bridge for his watch. He'd be relieving the guard that had brought in the boy. Even though he tried to stop the ruminations, he had a couple questions for the guard.

Turning the metal gears of the door created a resonating sound throughout the ship, no doubt alerting anyone near. He greeted the guard with an acknowledging nod, sealing the door behind him. "Before you go, Reeves…" he came up to the guard, crossing his arms as he looked out over the bridge.

"Can you tell me anything about the kid? Did he say anything, do anything-" "Yea, yea, actually he did." Reeves interrupted with the sudden remembrance of a clue. "When I picked him up off the bridge he asked if he made it to Rivet City. I told'em he did and he just passed out." He concluded, even pointing to the spot where it had occurred on the bridge.

Harkness nodded. So he'd been coming to Rivet City for a reason. That was somehow a little more reassuring.

"Alright, you're relieved." He told Reeves, unhooking his gun from his back to lean against the ship's wall. Reeves saluted him before he walked off, headed for the mid-ship deck. Reeves was relatively new, so his impolite interruption could be excused. For the moment.

Harkness settled into a lean against the ship, watching out over the wastes, eyes scanning decrepit landscape for trouble. Though his efforts were basically useless, there hadn't been any threats ever since a month after he started, he still kept a watchful eye out. Really, if he didn't have this he didn't know what he'd have.

The marketplace door opened and Harkness didn't have to glance over to know it was Lana. She carried out two nuka-colas for the both of them each night during his watch, when she was skipping out on paper work. He'd always scold her, but the scoldings never stuck so he stopped.

"Who're these from?" he asked, a hand already outstretched to receive the drink from her. Cool glass connected to warm skin as it was slid into his palm, "Cindy. Just a little 'thank you'." She told the Chief, already uncapping it with her bare hand, depositing the cap into a pocket. That's one of Lana's traits he admired most about her. Lana liked her lip sticks and spring dresses, but she was tough as nails and wouldn't let anyone forget it.

One of the deciding factors in making her his second in command.

That, and her father had been very persuasive.

It was a few minutes of silence later that she spoke up again, "The last time we had a vaultie here she brought an orphan with her." She recalled, and Harkness was reminded of the small looking boy who seemed afraid of him, afraid of the ship and its metal walls with all its creaks and groans in the middle of a silent night.

That boy was different now, he thrived here unlike the place he'd been taken from. He heard Grayditch had been infested with ants, except they'd been so mutated that they spit fire. He frowned at the thought. Poor kid was held up in a heat box while the vaultie got to the bottom of it. He was such a polite kid, his father taught him well. Always thanked Lana with a "Yes ma'am." And would salute Harkness whenever they passed.

It made him chuckle.

Lana glanced over to him, tipping her cola back for a drink, she grinned as well, "The time before that, she pulled Pinkerton from out of the dark."

It was true. Before the 101 girl made her first appearance, many people had thought Pinkerton was either dead or nowhere to be found. Of course no one bothered to ask old Belle Bonny. All except the perceptive Lone Wanderer. Pinkerton was now a little more sociable, though he mostly stuck to himself over in the broken bow. He and Preston would get together sometimes to discuss things, trade research findings.

"How long has it been since we last saw Diana?" Lana asked because she knew Harkness could tell her exactly how long it had been, right to the second. Not because he'd been counting, he just had this natural sense of time, and its passing.

"Two weeks. She stopped for the night, said she was on her way to the museum of history. She spoke with Angela, Bryan, Vera and Seagrave before she left." He knew because he'd been in the marketplace that morning when she departed. She'd waved to him, and he waved back.

Lana smirked, and he was sure she was about to say something else, possibly make another retort about his unusual remembering skills. But her eyes fell to his arm. He glanced down as well to see a drop of blood.

He'd missed a spot.

* * *

Soooo, I've fallen into one of my swiftly growing favorite pairings, taking a break from my usual l4d2 for a bit. At this point, I have the whole story planned out, but I don't have a set number of chapters. Expect more soon.

**(BLD)**


	2. He's a Rebel

Harkness set the dirty wash cloth down in the sink, rinsing it out and watched as the rivulets of red washed down the drain. After his shift, Lana had made him go wash. It's not like he needed her to tell him that, she was just being his big sister again. He didn't know why she always made a big fuss, at the end of his shift, all the children were already in bed, so it's not like he'd be passing any on his way back to his quarters. And it was only the one spot.

Just then, the door to his room opened, "Harkness?" it was Preston. He'd poked his head in through the door, glancing about the room.

"Have any news?" Harkness asked, turning off the faucet and leaving the dirtied rag to lay over the lip of the rusty sink. Preston didn't seem to be in any distress, so Harkness figured the news were either good or perhaps neutral. Preston stepped into his room, closing the door behind him before he spoke, "I've still got him hooked up to my monitors, and I'm still returning blood to his system at the moment, but the boy woke up, and I was able to learn his name and what vault he's from." He told Harkness with a small smile.

"But," he continued, with an index finger pointing up, "He went right back to sleep after I gave him water and fed him. I don't suppose he'll be awake for another couple hours." He informed Harkness. It seemed a big weight lifted off his shoulders with the news.

"Good." Harkness responded with a sigh, "So, what's the name?" he asked, sitting down on the edge of his cot, pushing his armor over a bit so as not to sit on it.

"Butch DeLoria. He came from Vault 101. I didn't get time to ask if he knew Diana, but I'm guessing he did. How could he not know about one of the only two to leave that vault?" Preston concluded, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. He had a few dealings with Diana, first meeting her when she needed him to heal her. She had been struck by a mutie club and needed the swelling in her shoulder to go down before she could move it. One of the more severe club injuries he's seen. Then again, he didn't have to treat many people who got that close to a club wielding mutant.

The second time around, she needed some Radaway. It looked like she'd been out swimming in the Potomac. He soon found out she'd ventured into the broken off bow of Rivet city, looking for Pinkerton. It was odd how it seemed things only changed around here when a vault dweller showed up. Pinkerton had been almost a myth, only seeming real to the elder members of the ship's population. Then in walks Diana, simply wanting to know more history about Rivet City, which led her to uncovering the where-abouts of a man, a ghost, who'd been living right under their noses the whole time.

"Good news. Good news." Harkness concluded. He stared down at the aged metal ground for a few moments before he spoke up again, "Whose going to pay for all his medical bills…?" he'd asked flatly, it being more a question to himself than to Preston. But, being the analytical man that he was, Harkness had already assumed he'd have an answer to his halfhearted question. "Well, the boy was coming here for a reason, correct? We'll have him work for somebody. Anybody. He can pay his debt off that way."

It made Harkness chuckle. "When he wakes up, ask for his résumé. See what kind of a job a machine told him he was good at in a Vault." Surprisingly, that got a chuckle out of the usually very professional doctor.

* * *

The morning hadn't been any different from the last. Except now there was a crowd of vendor owners around the table Preston, Harkness and Vera sat at, all spitting out questions like rapid fire, all before business really started in the market and anyone else had a chance to bombard them. They were the same questions, "What's he planning on doing here?" "How long is he staying?" "Are there others coming with him?" and they all had the same answer.

"He didn't say."

As the crowd slowly began to dwindle, the shop keepers shuffling back to their stalls, unsatisfied, Harkness finally got some peace. That's when he looked over to Lana, inviting her with his eyes to take the seat next to him so they could talk security. She gave him a crooked smile from the corner she stood in, near the NukaCola machine, and quietly crept over, avoiding a collision with Angela who had three bowls on a tray, carrying them high on her shoulder. She sat with Harkness, stealing his bottle of cola to take a sip. He gave her a roll of his eyes and adjusted in his seat.

"I'd like to know how this kid is so popular and he hasn't said but two sentences." He spoke in a hushed tone, clearly not wanting the whole gaggle of the marketplace people to come storming back over.

Lana gave a quiet giggle, a sound that was reserved, but no less amused. "How often do we get mysterious young people coming through here on even more murky circumstances? I think it's good for these people's morals." Her eyes shifted coolly over to Bannon. "Have you noticed that Bannon hasn't come at you with his requests yet?" It was true. Usually the man comes up to him nearly every time Harkness found himself alone, demanding topics be brought up during their meetings. This morning, however, he was chattering away with Cindy and Brock. As if it were the furthest thing on his mind. Though, it probably was.

"I didn't want to acknowledge that fact too much… I was afraid if I felt relieved I'd jinx it somehow." Harkness confessed.

Lana gave another of her giggles, "With your luck, you just might." Then, at that moment, Harkness reached over and stole his drink back, finishing it off, and setting it back down on the table top. "Still, though… I'd like us to keep an eye on the boy. Preston says he wants us to look into him getting a job somewhere around here. Says he needs to pay off his medical bills." He gave a smirk. "I'm sure the ship'll be excited to hear that."

"Oh, no doubt." Lana agreed, as sarcastically as she could muster. She raised her hand and gestured over Angela. As the girl came over, Lana grabbed Harkness' bottle, "Dear, could you get me a cola? Harkness is being stingy." She pleaded, handing her the empty one to throw away. "No problem." She grinned and hurried off. Not many aboard the ship knew Lana's sweet side, though that usually meant she didn't like many aboard the ship.

But Angela seemed to have found Lana's unused maternal instincts, buried under self-repressed urges to reproduce. So, even though Angela lost her mother at an early age, Lana had been the one to fill her mother's shoes. She may not be working alongside Gary and her at the Galley, but she was a constant enough presence that they'd formed a relationship beyond a customer at the lunch hour, or the Commander of security.

Harkness was very aware of their relationship, and it reminded him of his wife, and how things used to be… But that was a long time ago. There were a lot of details about that part of his past that now, seemed foggy. Perhaps that happens with age, or he'd rather not remember a lot of it, simply because the memories are too painful.

Either way, that was all behind him now. He couldn't ask for anything better than what he had now, here in Rivet City. He watched Angela come back with a fresh, frosty Cola for Lana and observed the sweet glow that came from Lana when she thanked her. These thoughts never came up often, usually only when the conversations quiet down, and the attention is turned away from him… And Harkness takes the time to quietly watch the ones around him, observe their behavior. In moments like these, he found himself feeling a certain longing. A yearning for what others had, what occurred between two people when they cared about each other. He thought he knew what it felt like, having had been with his wife, but as he watched Lana grin down at the table, even after having said Thank You to Angela already, it was the after effects of that small moment that still lingered. A small warmth inside her that glowed even after the light went out.

He wanted that. He wanted to feel that way. He wished so desperately it were something he could catch in a bottle and keep sitting on his shelf when these moments came along, but life wasn't so simple.

Suddenly, Harkness was jolted from his thoughts when he realized Lana had asked him a question, her big brown eyes staring him down for an answer. "Come again?" he prompted her. Lana gave a curious smile, "I asked if you planned on actually eating something this morning. You didn't have breakfast yesterday, either. Are you feeling sick?" This time Harkness grinned.

"Maybe. I just haven't had much of an appetite till around lunch." He gave a shrug.

Maybe he did have something like that, like a warmth in a bottle. But of course friendship comes with any prolonged acknowledgement of one another's existence. Lana had decided on her own that Harkness was worth teasing and picking on as if he were an older brother, and that's what made it genuine and not forced. Maybe that's why they had a sibling relationship of sorts. Lana hadn't had any, and neither did Harkness.

It was at the end of breakfast that Harkness had determined that Lana was good at filling in the blanks.

* * *

"I don't think we should trust anyone from those vaults. They could go behind your back or turn on you at any moment." Bannon shook his head solemnly. He made the comment to Gary, which in turn got a comment from Seagrave, "Oh, are you sure it's not because you won't be able to talk this one into black mailing me too?" Which got a laugh out of Vera and Cindy.

Banon scowled deeply at Seagrave, "I don't think I remember inviting you to this conversation…" he seethed, his thin, lanky arms crossing over his chest.

Harkness stood quietly by his barrel fire, smirking to himself at the conversations among the stall owners. He did that not only to make sure underhanded things weren't creeping around under his nose, (But really, what's the worst Bannon could do?) their frequent banters were one of his few sources of entertainment.

A piece of wood crackled loudly, breaking in half in the fire pit as the heat raised and plumed in Harkness' face. His hands were pressed towards the same heat, his fingers spread slightly. The nights were becoming colder, sending a chill in the waters and frost to collect on the ship's metallic walls. Winter was coming, though it approached slowly. The cold seasons were short in the Capitol Wasteland, the scorched Earth seemed to think the weather foreign every time it came around. It never snowed, though, only needle like sleet rain and hail. Never cold enough for snow.

Now that the seasons were changing, that meant Rivet City would become a target, yet again, for those less fortunate to not have shelter during the cold. That usually meant turning the other cheek as he 'didn't notice' Carlos sneaking in one late night during his shift. But then there were the Super Mutants and Raiders who think they have enough man power to force their way in and stay in to ride out the winter.

But really, the jokes on them, because this old ship holds cold in all its walls and floors, and the only real shelter was from the falling rain and blowing wind. It would be just as cold outside as it was inside. That's when Bannon planned to make a killing with all the fleece blankets that were sold to him in the middle of July. Everyone who saw them and how high they were priced laughed. Come mid-January Bannon would be the one laughing in their faces with his pinky raised as he sipped wine.

Though all these things were to come in the near future, Harkness' mind was still busy ruminating all the upcoming events, while at the same time reminding himself to offer a blanket to Seagrave when the time came because he knew Bannon wouldn't sell him one.

"Harkness…"

The security chief turned to the call of his name, seeing that Preston had come through the bottom deck west entrance, waving a hand to get him to come over. Harkness gave a nod to him before appointing a fellow security officer to keep watch in his leave. A brisk walk later, Harkness was following behind Preston to his office, "The boy is awake again. I thought you'd have some questions for him… And I need someone in the room with me to make sure I don't hurt him…" The doctor grumbled to himself, making Harkness chuckle. "What's that supposed to mean?" He asked with another laugh under his breath.

Preston sighed, turning down his hallway, "What I mean is the boy is insufferable. He was giving me a hard time when I tried to check his bandages and is being a lot less cooperative." He then paused in front of his door before putting a hand to the hatch, "I'm going to stay out here…" Harkness rose a brow. Without being prompted any further, Preston answered, "Every time he opens his mouth I want to strangle him…" And that was all Harkness needed to know before shaking his head and going in front of Preston to enter the office.

Preston sighed and headed off to speak with Vera, leaving Harkness to speak to the young man sitting up on the cot, stroking a comb through his now clean and slickened looking hair. As Harkness closed the door behind him, he watched as a razor sharp grin crossed his lips.

"How'ya doin…?" He asked casually, one leg crossing over the other as he got more comfortable. He looked a lot different when he was covered in less blood. The boy's clothes lay in a heap at the side of the cot, seeming to have been folded at some point, but now lay in a pile of disarray. The boy's torso was bandaged starting from just under his pectorals, a few stains of blood seeping through around the abdomen region. He was hunched in a way in his upright position that let on his discomfort. Though the boy wanted to appear fine and well rested, Harkness could hear the slight strain of pain in his voice and see the lines of stress streaked on his face. He wasn't fooling him.

"I'm Harkness, chief of security here in Rivet City. You collapsed on our bridge the other night, and before you did you wanted to make sure you'd made it here." He spoke, taking a seat in Preston's office chair, and turning it toward Butch DeLoria so they could talk, face to face.

"Yea, that sounds about right. I heard'a this place from a friend of mine, said if I wanted to leave the vault so bad I should come here." He confirmed, then started to adjust himself, his arms raising up to presumably rest behind his head, until an apparent sting of sharp pain ran through him, and he gave a hiccup, freezing and face scrunching.

"Hey, hey," Harkness rose both his hands, leaning forward in his seat to try and calm Butch, "Take it easy. You're beat up pretty bad, so you shouldn't be moving around a lot." The boy's face stayed scrunched, eyes shut tight in pain, but he slowly moved his arms back to where they'd been before. His body was littered in bruises, some nasty, and made him wonder if there were any broken bones, and some were minor. The black eye he had, though seemed old. It really wasn't much of a black eye, only a yellow distortion of his skin pigment in a border like form around the underside of his eye.

Harkness wondered briefly how or why he'd gotten a black eye if he hadn't gotten it while out in the wasteland…

"Yea… That's all that blabber-mouth doctor kept sayin', too." He groaned, slowly adjusting back as to not upset his injuries. Harkness learned very quickly that this boy tried hard to conceal his true ailments, but his body failed him. This was probably true of everything else about him, and it was a good note to add to his slowly growing knowledge of Butch DeLoria. He put it away like a file in a drawer of many, his eyes squinting in just the slightest as he kept observing him.

"Well that blabber-mouth doctor is the one who kept you from bleeding out." He began, something akin to anger welling up inside him, but not quite. "And it's the same doctor who kept me from having to deal with another dead body on our bridge." He informed Butch. "If I were you, I'd be grateful."

"And if I were you, I'd be in the bar already." Butch growled under his breath, not caring at all to meet the authoritive stare Harkness was giving him. Instead, the young man reached down to his black leather jacket and pulled it up to lay over his lap like a blanket. Harkness watched him reach into his inner coat pocket for something, and was suddenly transfixed on the sewn in design of a Cobra on the back. He wondered if Butch had done that himself or if someone in his vault had actually sown that for him…

Then there was a _flick_, and Harkness watched Butch light a cigarette between his lips, the small flame illuminating his eyes in a way that made them seem bigger. And that's when he realized what he was witnessing.

He quickly stood and swiped the cigarette out of his mouth, smoke leaving in a trail as the man was left frozen for a moment until he realized what had happened, "Hey! What gives?!" he complained, nearly standing up himself, but stayed put.

"No smoking in the Doctor's office." He informed Butch, a stern look on his face as he didn't so much as glance back as he stamped it out on the Doctor's table. Butch returned the look with a glare, "And I don't think you should be smoking at all for the time being, given your current situation." He tacked on.

Butch sucked his teeth, "Listen mister security chief, I've been smokin' since my mom's been too drunk to notice one or two cigs missing from her pack." He shared, "And let me tell'ya, she's been drinkin since after I was born. Hell, I don't even think she quit while she had me…" he trailed off, "So smokin' a little while I got a few scratches…" he finally looked up to Harkness, their eyes meeting, "I don't think that's going to be much of a problem."

Harkness gave a smirk.

He amused him, he really did. When was the last time someone so much as said no to a favor he asked? This guy seemed ready to play ball. It wasn't Butch's fault Harkness was a pro in the little leagues.

"Not my call. Doctor's orders." He then sat back down, "Now we need to get to business." Harkness was done allowing Butch to have his fun. It was time to get back to reality, for the both of them. "It took a lot of time and effort to keep you going, and that also cost a lot of caps. How many do you have, and do you think you can pay it all off?" It came out sounding less like a question and more a demand.

"Caps…" Butch looked at Harkness with an uncomprehending expression.

"Yea, bottle caps." Harkness had a bad feeling he already knew the answer to his own question.

"Like…off'a Nuka Colas…" he mimicked opening an imaginary bottle of cola, like it would get his point across more clearly.

"Yes, bottle caps." Harkness repeated, monotone, lids hooded with dissatisfaction.

"…Holy shit, I thought she was fuckin with me…" Butch sat back in the cot, his back pressed against the pillows, eyes fixed on no apparent point in front of him.

Harkness gave a sigh but wasn't overly surprised, "Well, sounds to me like you'll be needing a job." That statement was enough to get Butch to snap his head over to the security chief with something like disbelief and disdain, "What…"

"What are you good at, Butch? Any _special_ abilities?" Harkness completely ignored Butch's question and leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees, "I can set you up working here with anyone doing grunt work, but you need to speak up now if you've got untapped potential." Though Harkness highly doubted it. He barely looked able enough to read, let alone make money transactions. He'd be stacking chairs in the Muddy Rudder for sure, earning a bullshit wage that he'd be lucky to get his debt paid off in half a year, and that's without calculating costs for his apparent drinking habit.

"I'm a barber."

This time Harkness was snapped out of his thoughts with Butch's statement.

"A barber…" Harkness was hardly believing it. "And who determined you were good at that… because judging from your own hair cut…" Harkness trailed off, his eyes going up to Butch's odd shaped haircut.

"Hey, don't talk ill of a Tunnel Snake's doo." He warned, a hand subconsciously going up to pet down thought up fly aways. Harkness rolled his eyes, "Alright, fine." He sat up in his chair, folding his arms over his chest.

"You give me a cut."

Butch's eyes went wide, "You're joking."

"Not only that, but if I like it, I'll set you up an operation of your own. You won't have a stall or anything like that, but you'll have a license to accept money for your service." He grinned, satisfied with his own fair ruling. It wasn't often he got to make split decisions without the counsel up his ass about something. It was a small victory in his name. But he began to realize the mistake he might've just made if this kid was pulling all this shit out his ass.

"Sounds good to me." Butch accepted the challenge, another razor sharp smirk on his lips, and began ordering Harkness to fetch his necessary tools to get started.


	3. The Wanderer (Take 1)

Harkness had to sit on a foot stool, because the wounded barber couldn't stand to do his haircut. He'd gathered surgical scissors, a wet towel and a comb, found in Preston's desk drawer. Harkness was sure he wouldn't mind. First, Butch had instructed him to rinse his hair out, get it soaked so his hair would be more easily manipulative. By this time, Harkness had taken off his upper security personnel armor, the heavy weight a hindrance as he made quick work of Butch's orders.

"Yea, that's good, come over here." Butch had barked, satisfied with how Harkness had wetted his hair. The security chief gave a sigh as he sat himself on the low stool, giving Butch the perfect vantage to do what needed to be done.

"You know how to give a lot of orders for being a _hair dresser_." Harkness commented off handedly.

"Hey…" Butch suddenly sounded a bit hostile, "I'm a _barber_." He corrected the man. "Hair dressers are for women."

"So you're saying your services are only available to men? I don't think that's very accommodating." Harkness countered, "If you can't accommodate, I don't think this job is going to work out." He began to stand, but, "Wait, wait…" Butch pushed down on Harkness' shoulders, making him stumble to a sit back on the small stool. "I didn't say I wouldn't cut ladies hair. Hell, they're my most frequent customers."

"Then that means you're also a hairdresser." Harkness spoke up, allowing the forceful motion to go unchecked. He heard a heavy sigh from behind him, breath brushing past his ear.

"Alright, fine. I give." And then there were a set of warm hands on his temples, then fingers stroking through his wet hair. Despite his apparent reluctance, the gesture was gentle, as if what he held in his hands and stroked were something fragile. It was a surprisingly soothing motion, and for a moment, Harkness found himself relaxing to the touch. Then the hands left and a comb took their place. A few minutes were spent combing out Harkness' wet locks.

"You've got some soft hair, buddy." Butch commented, his form slightly hunched as he sat on the edge of the cot. "What do you use in it?"

"Soap." Was Harkness' simple reply. It made Butch chuckle, then the comb left for a moment. Then the fingers were back, selecting strands to shorten in between his pointer and middle fingers.

"Are you sure you just want a trim? I can give you something-" "Get to cuttin', Butch." Harkness interrupted his thought quickly, not wanting him to get any ideas.

"Sure, sure…" Was Butch's reply. "Just tryin' to give the ladies a reason to look at'ya." And he began to snip, tiny tuffs of hair falling to the towel surrounding Harkness' shoulders, keeping the hair from getting on his clothes. Harkness rolled his eyes. "If you wanna insult me, you gotta try a little harder than that." He mumbled, about to shake his head a bit, but firm hands grabbed his head and held it in place, "Stop movin'." Butch mumbled back.

Butch then began to clip more strands, combing out more hair here, and clipping there. It was a meticulous task, and every time some hair got trapped behind his ear, gentle fingers rubbed it out or away. The sensation of having a person give him these kinds of touches… He wasn't sure he quite knew how that felt like. Butch's behavior may be gruff, and annoying at times, but his hands told a different story. Harkness started to feel the kid had a natural knack for this.

"Butch…" Harkness spoke up, announcing his name more as a statement, but Butch replied anyway as if he'd asked something. "Yea?"

"How old even are you?"

Harkness heard a small chuckle of sorts, "Why you askin?" he asked back, his voice soft as he began to really focus on a certain spot.

"I wanna know how long you've been doing this."

"Why, cause I'm just that good?" Butch asked with another chuckle, a gentle thumb scrapping away some strands that had stuck to the back of Harkness' neck. The small touch had inadvertently sent a chill up Harkness' spine, making him sit up a little straighter.

"No. Because you're too comfortable touching people like this."

There was a long moment of silence after that remark, and Butch had even stopped combing out his hair, his hands frozen on his head. "What's wrong with getting touched, huh?" Butch ventured, continuing his task at hand as if Harkness hadn't even mentioned his gestures in a way to signify he disliked it.

Harkness rolled his eyes, "Why do you have to answer my questions with questions?"

"Hypocrite."

Harkness stared blankly at the metal wall across from him, not finding the effort to even _muster_ a retort. For some reason, he had a strong feeling Butch was smirking behind his back. He swore, if he didn't have a pair of scissors in his hands…

"Alright, turn around." Butch commented, his voice sounding much too amused for his liking, while his hands left from his head. Harkness stood, turning around and sitting once again on the foot stool, noticing just how much height Butch had over him while he sat like this.

Butch didn't waste any time and went straight back to cutting the Chief's hair, meticulous and swift. Because Harkness had nothing else better to look at, he made no attempt in hiding the way he looked up to the Barber's eyes and watched him. Under half lidded eyes, his bright blues shifted across his scalp, while his hands made quick work of the hairs that made up what bangs Harkness had. To him, it almost seemed the work was mindless to Butch. He wondered how many times he did this in his vault; mindlessly giving the same haircut with no variety.

"You like my face, or somethin'?" Butch asked, leaving Harkness reeling back and realizing he'd been staring for some time now, but kept his eyes steady as he watched no change in Butch's expression. It was kept neutral, and overall bored.

"It's not like I have anything else to look at." Harkness mumbled.

A small smirk twitched at the corner of his lip, only acknowledging the comment through that motion. Then a small few strands of hair fell to the side of the slope of Harkness' nose, and in a swift yet gentle action, they were brushed away by Butch's thumb.

"I'm done." Butch announced, grinning down to the Chief as his hands fell away and tucked themselves in his lap with the comb and scissors. His eyes drifted over Harkness' head, observing his own work and raising his comb hand to swipe through a section here and there.

Harkness raised a brow, "With as little bias as you can, tell me how it looks."

Butch reached out and collected the towel draped around Harkness' neck, making sure to not let any tiny hairs escape the terry cloth. "It's exactly what you asked for."

Harkness stood, wondering over to the standing mirror by the door and took a long look at his reflection. His hair had been trimmed, neatly, professionally. It looked exactly like what you'd expect from a no non-sense security chief. So why did he feel a small pang of disappointment curl in his chest.

"When you want somethin' new, you tell me." Butch suggested, folding the towel in on itself to keep the short hairs from falling everywhere.

Harkness made eye contact with Butch's reflection in the mirror just in time to see that razor sharp smirk whip across his mouth. He gave a gruff half chuckle then turned to him. "How much do I owe for the haircut, Barber?" he asked, already pulling out a few caps from a leather pouch at his hip.

"How much is a meal around here?" Butch asked, gingerly making his way back on to the bed in an upright position.

"You can get something that's cheap and tastes cheap for five caps. Something that's not cheap and not taste cheap would be 10 caps and up." Harkness explained, then grabbed up his upper body armor to slide back over his shoulders.

Harkness watched as Butch gave a nod, "Alright, how about seven caps. It wasn't much of a cut, ya'know." He gave a chuckle, leaning back against the wall behind him. Harkness gave a half smile then reached into his pouch and counted out some caps then came up to Butch and dropped them to the side of his thigh on the bed. "For the time being, you'll be living in here, until you're healed enough to walk. I'm gonna get to work on finding you a place to stay while you're here." Harkness began explaining, putting away all the things Butch had instructed him to pull out from Preston's supplies.

"Once you've got some place to stay, I'll get the word out that you'll be cutting hair." He paused for a moment, still wondering about where he'd be cutting his customer's hair. He was still a sketchy character, and he wasn't so sure about letting his citizens go into a room by themselves with Butch. Maybe he could set up a corner in the marketplace... Perhaps the corner closes to the stairs, and just move that work bench…

"You'll have a space in the marketplace to do your work. I'll get together some supplies you'll need, and don't worry about paying off a debt for those." He then went to turn and leave, but stopped, slowly turning back to the young man.

"And don't think just because you work here now doesn't mean I won't crack down on you if you start causing trouble." Harkness was swift about laying down the line, silently hoping this kid was just all bark and no bite, but he found himself highly doubting that.

Butch chuckled, "I'll be an Angel." He mumbled under half lidded eyes.

Harkness shook his head slightly before opening the doctor's office door and stepped through it-

"Hey, wait, you gave me ten caps, Chief." Butch called to him, staring confused at the pile of caps in his hand, "I mean, don't get me wrong, I love tips…" Then he drifted off.

Harkness stepped back in for a moment, long enough to say, "You can get a whisky for ten down at the Muddy Rudder. The beer here is piss water." He mumbled, nonchalantly. Without waiting for a reply, Harkness left, closing the door behind him and walking back down the hall.

Even with all the distance, and a metal door between them, he could still feel a razor sharp smirk cut into his back.


	4. Tutti-Frutti

He could hear the argument even before he made it to the council meeting. Bannon would be the death of him, he knew it, and he often thought of writing a letter and hiding it for Lana to find if he ever did succumb to headaches induced by Bannon. But of course, death would be too convenient.

"Harkness, I can't _believe_ you didn't come to us before you made such a brash decision!" He hadn't even made it into the security lounge before Bannon struck him, barely halfway up the stairs. Harkness gave a sigh, his head falling for a moment, already tired of Bannon's mouth.

"How about we all sit before you start up, huh?" Harkness encouraged, continuing his assent up the stairs, having half a mind to shove past Bannon if he didn't get out of his way quick enough. He watched the shop keeper fold his arms over his chest, huffing flippantly as he turned to take a seat at their table. Harkness had to repress a growl, his eyes hooded with irritation.

Dr. Li sat on the left side of the meeting table, looking over some papers on a clip board and marking things down with a pencil, her expression pensive. Harkness hated taking her away from her work when he knew it was for the whole city's benefit. These meetings were sort of on the ridiculous side, but he would more than likely commit a crime if he were left alone in a room with Bannon long enough. Madison understood the importance these meetings could hold, so she seemed more than happy to attend.

"Madison, please tell Harkness what I told you a moment ago." Bannon huffed, "I can't exert myself by saying it again." His tone scoffing. He then took a seat to the right of the table, and folded a leg over the other to match his arms, looking all too childish.

Madison gave a slight glare to Bannon, her sentiments unanimous with Harkness'. "Bannon said the civilians should've been informed of a new _potential_ civilian, and he also mentioned all the rules you were breaking in the process and a lot of other civilian related things…" Madison began but then slowly lost more and more interest as she began to stare down at her papers, not nearly as upset as Bannon on the issue.

"I heard the boy was going to be cutting hair." She gave a nod while still staring down, marking even as she spoke, "I could use a good trim." She mumbled.

Harkness smirked, leaning back in his chair till just the back legs stood on the ground, "What exactly is your argument here, Bannon?"

Bannon stared incredulously at the downturned face of the Doctor, "My…" he paused, looking up at Harkness, "My argument is that you didn't consult us before bringing in that trash-"

"Watch your tongue, Bannon." He sat right back up, halting Bannon's assault before he could get any steam, "Are you telling me I should've let a boy die on my bridge because he's a capless Vaultie?" his voice had taken on a stern edge, his expression giving nothing but neutrality, an eerie combination to behold.

That got Bannon to back down, his arms slowly unfolding, "N-No, but that doesn't excuse giving him a job before he can be made citizen-"

"Who said he'd be becoming a citizen? Butch DeLoria is going to be working to pay off his medical debt to Preston, and that's it." Harkness interrupted again, not giving Bannon any edge.

"But he needs to be a citizen to own a stall, Harkness." Bannon countered, his form hunching over the table as he only got more infuriated with Harkness' attitude.

"He's not going to be running a stall. He'll be working in a small vacant space in the marketplace." He explained. It wasn't often that Harkness got to exploit the loop holes in Bannon's _rules_, but when he did, it was with extreme pleasure.

Bannon groaned, his hands running down his face, frustrated.

"Where will he be living in the meantime?" Harkness was a bit surprised to hear Madison speak up over her papers, still staring at them as she asked.

"Well, I supposed that would be the main topic of today's meeting." Harkness replied, leaning forward again to place his elbows on the table. Bannon gave a scoff beside him. "Don't tell me you're planning on giving the stranger the vacant room, after all we've worked for in getting it emptied?" When he thought Bannon couldn't get any more obnoxious, he's proven wrong.

"Well, when you say it like that…"

"No! No, Harkness! There are better uses for the room than that!" Bannon fumed, and Harkness could just _feel _the topic shift as soon as the vacant room was brought up but-

"Your room has two cots, right?" Madison was looking straight at Harkness, and it took him a moment to realize what she was suggesting, "Madison," he began, "There's so many reasons-" "Well, isn't that just perfect. I think the matters settled then." Bannon chirped in, his smug grin all too welcoming for Harkness' fist.

It was as Harkness bit at his lip to keep from making a move after Bannon that Madison stood, "Boys, if you'll excuse me." And in one fell swoop, dismissing the meeting in the only way Madison Li could. The doctor made no attempt in caring what kind of argument she'd left behind as she made her way back to her science lab. Anything and everything was petty if it didn't have to deal with her work, and in most ways, that was correct. But sometimes, Harkness wished she'd have his back more.

Bannon was still grinning as he stood to follow behind Madison, "I assume you'll be letting the boy know of his new accommodations soon?" He gave a too amused laugh as he didn't wait for an answer that wasn't coming. He was lucky Harkness had a strong will…

* * *

After turning up empty handed when he visited Preston's office, Butch decided to head down to the Muddy Rudder, now realizing it should've been the more obvious choice. It was easy to spot out the Barber, with his back turned at the bar, his Cobra threatening any who came near, posed for attack on his back.

"Ya'know," Harkness was beside Butch, a hand on his shoulder as he spoke to him, glad he'd felt a small jolt of surprise when he did so, "When I gave you caps for booze, I didn't expect you'd be down here so quickly."

Butch gave a sigh, trying to ease his nerves after the apparent scare, "Jeez, you can't do that shit to me…" he mumbled before taking another sip from his amber liquid. Belle gave a chuckle behind the bar, absently cleaning glasses as she stared at the two. "When were you going to introduce me to this Sweetheart, Harkness?" she asked with no small amount of amusement. It got Harkness to chuckle because he felt the instant tension in the boy's arm at the comment from Belle.

"Well, I didn't expect him to be up and around yet. I was going to plan a big introduction ceremony, maybe up in the marketplace." Harkness egged on, smirking slightly when the tension only intensified.

"Hey, hey, I'm flattered, but that ain't really necessary, Chief." Butch tried to reason, a hand going up as if to defend himself.

Belle and Harkness both laughed in earnest, too happy to tease the young man. "I've got good news, Barber." He gave a light pat to Butch's shoulder, being gentle due to his injuries. "You've got a place to stay."

Butch gave a chuckle, "Well alright. I was hopin' to get out of that cold office." He mumbled, slowly getting off of the high bar stool, trying not to upset his injuries. Harkness was astonished he even made it here in the first place. He was sure he'd need Preston to check him over again soon, but that could wait for now.

"Just follow me." Harkness instructed, looking behind himself to Butch, making sure he did as he was told. As he turned back for the stairs, he gave a scowl of annoyance that no one saw. He didn't know whether to be annoyed at Madison or at Bannon, because really, Madison's plan was logical, but it still made Bannon feel like it was inconveniencing Harkness in some way, which made it annoying…

They traveled through the halls and up the stairs in relative silence, with only footsteps and the occasional sloshing of Butch's drink as he drank from the bottle. It was when they started ascending further than Harkness has gone, into the security living quarters, that Butch spoke up, "Hey, uh… What part of the ship is this?" His voice sounded calm, nonchalant, but Harkness felt the waver of nervousness in his footsteps. It made him smirk.

"These are security barracks." He replied, not revealing any information other than that.

"Wait, you got me livin' with the soldier boys?" Harkness didn't answer. There was a long pause where he could tell that Butch was trying to put things together.

"Okay, I really appreciate what you're doin' here, but I don't think-" "Cool it, Barber." Harkness used a little too much force on that command, but he always loved a good joke that was executed well.

He could almost hear the way the Barber's breath picked up in speed, knowing the Kid probably figured he's being put in a cell. He seemed like the type to have spent some amount of time in one. It only made him grin further.

Once they got to Harkness' room, he stopped in front of it, staring Butch down with as much authority and disdain as he'd stare down any creep accused of smacking his mother, "This is for your own good, DeLoria."

He watched the Barber's face turn white, his eyes blank, then his hand went straight for his pocket, only to stare down at it in confusion, "My Toothpick…"

"I swiped it out of your pocket when we were in the bar." Harkness explained, holding the Kid's knife out like a prize he'd won, "I didn't want you getting any ideas." Then without another word, he turned and opened the door to his room, and stepping inside.

He watched as Butch stood stock still in the hall, his arms posed to defend himself, not attempting to move, but his eyes were rapt as he investigated the room from where he stood. The only thing on the walls were some papers, information on schedules, from security rotations to merchant stops. They were pinned up for quick access when he didn't have the time to root around for them. The majority of the papers were pinned above his desk in the center of the back wall, with pencils, books, and folders were stacked. To each side of the room was a cot, one with a pillow and blanket neatly folded and made, and the other made the same way, except Harkness' note book sat atop his pillow, it being the only distinction that it was his bed. At the foot of each cot was a filing cabinet that acted as drawers for clothes. Then there were weapon trunks and ammo cases lining the wall on the left of the door.

Once Butch had seen what was to see from where he stood he slowly took a few tentative steps forward, looking further into the room, "This is-" "My room." Harkness provided. He then gently guided Butch into the room by his shoulder with a firm hand, turning him toward the available cot. "This'll be your bed."

There was a very long pause while Butch stared down at the cot, his hands slowly fisting, "You ass."

Harkness began to chuckle, "What, you thought I was lockin' you up? Not yet, Barber. You gotta do something bad first." He grinned as he took a seat in his spinning chair and turned toward Butch. "Unless you've already done something…?" He spoke, his voice going back to a hard rumble of authority.

Butch sucked his teeth, "Piss off. You're makin' my bones hurt…" he mumbled, slowly taking a seat on his cot with a groan. "I'm gonna get you for this…" he mumbled, annoyed.

The threat only made Harkness chuckle harder, "Sure, sure." He mumbled, turning to his desk to gather a few papers that were a bit scattered and picked them up to tap the bottoms against the table to align them all at once and set them back down in their respective corner of the desk. "Now, I've got some ground rules, Butch." He spoke without looking at him at first. He then turned after adjusting a pen, "Since we're sharing a room, you should know that the room is technically mine. Not yours. And you'll do what I ask of you to maintain it. Understood?"

Butch rolled his eyes, "Yea, keep it clean, keep it classy, whatever." And sighed as he sat back on the cot carefully, his arms spread apart on the cot as he relaxed, one falling over the edge to dangle. "I've had a roommate, Chief." He mumbles with boredom clear on his features.

Harkness smirked, then spoke up again, "Yea, that and-" Harkness takes the switchblade from a pocket and tosses it to land by Butch's head on the cot. "No stabbing or slashing."

Butch turns his head to glance at the blade close to his face and laughs, his eyes closing as his head turns back to the ceiling. "Hey, as long as you don't start wearin' my underwear or some shit, you're golden."

Harkness shakes his head with a grin, glad that went smoother than expected. He was sure the Barber would have made more of a fuss, but he was thankfully mistaken. There were still many other things Harkness wanted to talk to Butch about but when he glanced back over to him, about to say something, he paused, noticing how the Barber's breathing had taken on a slower rhythm and his features were much more relaxed in his sprawl on the cot.

Harkness decided to allow the young man to nap, for the time being. Talk of business, debts and rules could wait for a little longer.

* * *

Sometimes I'm not near a source to check certain game facts before I submit a new part, and I'd really appreciate it if you (My readers) could point out any mistakes regarding authenticity to the game beyond the obvious characteristic changes. Some of my changes are on purpose, and some are genuine mistakes, but I'd love your feed back anyway. Thank you :)

**(BLD)**


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